Diary of a Crush: Kiss and Make Up by Sarra Manning Page A

horrible.
    Dylan asked me how the children’s party had gone when he finally came up for air and all I could do was shrug while Shona made ‘shut your mouth right the hell now’ motions at him.
    He didn’t get it. And finally Nat bellowed, ‘It was fine, OK? Can we talk about something else now?’
    I don’t think we’re going to be invited back there any time soon.
     
25th December
    Christmas sucks. Fact. The grand’rents were doting on me and I even got a sweet silver pendant from Tiffany’s as my big present, which was all kinds of good. Then I realised that Dylan had been dating Veronique for longer than he’d dated me. And all the Quality Street and mixed nuts in the world couldn’t change that. I’d got a Christmas card from him the day before. Another charming message:
     
    Dear Edie
    Even you can’t keep the silent treatment going all of next year too, can you? I’m not going to wait forever.
    D x
    Because ‘Merry Christmas and a happy new year’ would have just been too bloody simple.
     
1st January
    The New Year started with a bang and an ‘Oh dear’ and very possibly a ‘Bloody hell’ too. Nat had promised that we’d stay in until he heard that Trent was in town and going to the lads’ party. I absolutely refused to go but, after tears and tantrums and Nat threatening to tell everyone we knew that it actually said Edith on my birth certificate, there I was hiding behind Dylan’s Crimbo tree/art installation/whatever in my new vintage cocktail dress and wishing I wasn’t.
    I was just helping myself to another glass of punch when Dylan came up behind me.
    ‘Hey,’ he muttered.
    ‘Hey,’ I said.
    ‘The card…’ he trailed off.
    ‘Was another of your little mind games,’ I finished for him.
    ‘Look, Edie, I just want to be friends with you…’ He said it so smooth as well, like he was the most reasonable boy on the planet.
    Just to have him standing there in his stupid jeans and his stupid Trash T-shirt filled me with an indescribable fury. Which made me want to hurt him like he always managed to hurt me. I was fed up with being miserable and moping after him. And I was so, so, so sick of the way that he’d act like me being mad at him was silly. I’d made a rational and sanity-protecting decision to keep away from him and he should have respected that. Plus, the sight of him and her together always made me want to yak all over the floor.
    ‘Why don’t you get it, Dylan?’ I asked and my voice was as cold as the ice cubes in my drink. ‘I don’t want to have a friend like you. Y’know, friends implies that you actually get on with someone and you want to spend time with them and they make you feel good about yourself. And, hey, when it comes to me and you – none of the above apply.’
    Finally I’d said it and the fact that his face sort of crumpled at least meant that the message was beginning to sink in. Or so I thought until he said, ‘You don’t mean that.’
    He tried to stroke my arm but I flinched away from him and then he attempted the whole staring into my eyes routine but I’ve grown a pair since last year. ‘God, were you even listening to me?’ I exclaimed angrily. ‘Just leave me alone.’
    Dylan was definitely pouting now and I was at a loss to fathom out why an Edieless existence was something that he had such trouble coming to terms with and that’s when it hit me.
    ‘You might be going out with
her
, you might be sleeping with her but I bet you can’t get me out of your head,’ I announced triumphantly. ‘That’s what this is all about. You still want me!’
    My raised voice had cleared the kitchen and Dylan shifted uncomfortably.
    ‘When you talk like that Edie,’ he was saying, ‘I’m so glad we’re not going out any more.’
    I felt like he’d punched me in the stomach.
    ‘No you don’t,’ I insisted, forgetting the whole get out of my life and don’t let the door hit you in the arse speech of five minutes ago. ‘I know you still